


Bite

by cardinalrachelieu



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Zombie!Clarke, is she a reaper? we just don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalrachelieu/pseuds/cardinalrachelieu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from <a href="http://bellarkewritersnetwork.tumblr.com">BellarkeWritersNetwork</a> on tumblr: "You were dead, Clarke."</p><p>Yes, I'm answering my own prompt. Don't look at me like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite

“Clarke, you were dead,” he breathed, hands ghosting over her features as though she were some delicate, breakable thing. His fingers paused over the bite mark on her neck, tracing the marred skin lightly. “You were dead for two days,” he finished in nothing more than a whisper.

“No, that’s impossible.” She shook her head, brows furrowing in disbelief.

“Your heart stopped, Clarke.” He delivered the information gently, carefully watching her response.

Clarke placed her palm over her chest, eyes widening in horror almost instantly. “Bellamy. It’s still not beating.”

“What?” He shoved her hand out of the way with his own, eyes darting back and forth rapidly as he searched for a pulse that wasn’t there.

She could feel herself breathing, could feel the push and pull of oxygen through her lungs; but the blood in her veins had run cold. “Bellamy… what happened to me?” She searched his face for some answer, but his voice failed him when he tried to speak. “What am I?” she plead, tone wavering and hands shaking.

“You’re Clarke,” he said firmly, eyes unfocused and jaw clenching. “You’re Clarke,” he repeated, this time cradling her face with his hands and softly meeting her gaze. He held her like that for a few moments, nodding his head occasionally when he could see the doubt beginning to creep back into her eyes.

She closed her eyes, listening for the familiar beat of her heart but finding only silence. “But how—”

“You’re Clarke and you’re alive,” he cut her off, dipping his head to catch her gaze. “And that’s all that matters.” A crease formed between his brows, willing her to accept what he was saying.

She took steadying breaths, going rigid under his touch when the rise and fall of her chest became even. He dropped his grip to her shoulders, meeting the sudden change in her stature with a concerned expression.

“Bellamy…” she rasped, voice so low that it resembled a growl. “Get away from me.”

“Why?” he asked, cautious.

“Because I’m hungry,” she gritted through clenched teeth, eyes heavy when she met his questioning stare.

He dropped his hands from their place on her arms and turned to leave. “I’ll go get you something from—”

She gulped. “No, Bellamy.” Curling her fingers around the edge of the table and squeezing, her knuckles turned white.

He approached her again, chin tilting to the side in a silent plea for an explanation.

“It’s you,” she groaned. “I want to eat _you_.”

He palmed the air in front of him as he took a tentative step back toward the table. “Clarke, listen to me. We’re gonna fix this.” His tone was so sure, so calm.

“Get away from me,” she begged, retreating into herself and gripping the table tighter.

“You’re going to be fine,” he soothed, reaching his fingers up to her cheek.

“Get away from me!” she screamed, lashing her head to the side to escape his touch.

“I can’t lose you again!” He matched her intensity, though he withdrew his hand.

She stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, her pupils so wide that they nearly eclipsed her irises. “Bellamy, I don’t know how long I can resist.” He could see her muscles straining, at war with themselves about whether to stay put or to launch her into Bellamy.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m not leaving you, princess.” There was a certain stubborn finality to his tone.

Clarke’s lashes met the skin on the tops of her cheeks, brows knitting together into a harsh line. “Please… I don’t want to hurt you.” Her eyes fluttered open again to meet his, and he held her gaze without wavering.

“You won’t,” he assured her. “You’re strong. You can fight this.” He moved to place a hand on her, and this time she didn’t pull away. When his fingers found the skin of her forearm, though, she tensed and stopped breathing.

“You smell so good,” she moaned, head leaning toward the exposed flesh of his arm.

“Careful there, princess,” he laughed nervously. “Keep talking like that and I might start to think you don’t hate me.”

“Shut up, Bellamy,” she grumbled, a flash of the old Clarke returning.

“There she is,” he said fondly, a weary smile – the first one in three days – stretching across his features.

Her shoulders sagged a moment later and he tightened his grip on her arm. “You need to lock me up,” she said, voice rough like gravel.

He nodded. “You and I can head over to the drop ship, quarantine ourselves on the second—”

“No,” she protested. “Just me.”

“I said I wasn’t leaving you, and I meant it.” His tone brooked no argument as he offered a lopsided smile. Clarke sighed in response, too focused on controlling the overwhelming urge to tear into his flesh to continue the conversation.

“If you get yourself killed,” she threatened, “I swear…”

“You’ll what?” he chuckled. “Kill me?” He positioned himself at her side, looping an arm around her waist for support as he helped her off the table.

“Don’t tempt me.”

 

* * *

 

She shuffled her feet across the dirt-covered ground, thankful that Bellamy was carrying most of her weight. The man was an ass most of the time but it had become an almost endearing quality.

He was shouting at the people milling about camp to stay back and clear a path, one hand braced against her ribs and the other gripping her hand. Clarke could feel her resolve slipping through her fingers, a thick fog clouding her mind.

 _Just one taste_ , she thought, yanking his forearm to her mouth and sinking her teeth into the soft skin with enough force to draw blood.

He pulled the damaged limb away immediately, keeping his other hand firm around her waist so she wouldn’t fall. “ _Ow_ , Clarke, what the hell?”

The action seemed to snap her out of her trance and her pupils returned to a normal size. “Oh— _Oh god_. Bellamy, I don’t—” She shook her head violently, eyes shifting from side to side in shock. “I’m sorry. _Get away from me_.” Clarke pushed against his chest, trying futilely to put some distance between them.

He pressed his lips into a hard line and readjusted his grip on her side. “We’re in this together now, princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Might do a part two, not sure yet. For now, let's call this a one-shot.
> 
> Reviews give me life, so don't be shy :)


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